Broken Color
by LeaveMeLonely
Summary: Futuristic AU Multi-Chapter Deidara. Rated M solely for Deidara's mouth. Later SasoDei. Deidara's a student at a small art college with an intolerable roommate. Watch him struggle through emotionless peers, artistic differences, and maybe even...romance?
1. Prologue

**Author****'s note: **About the summary, this is actually only _slightly _futuristic AU, mainly for the use of implants. In the world there's actually more things that also make it futuristic, but they'll be mentioned later if they're mentioned at all. (The word counter was being a bitch)

**Broken Color**

**Prologue**

Deidara is sitting in his room, preparing the first thing he's ever sculpted.

His mother knocks on the door, smelling not too faintly of peppermint and smoke. It makes Deidara sick. He grimaces and gets to the stopping point. He has to wait until his mother's out of the house to finish it.

He hears her sigh, (she probably just wanted to haul him off to one of her stupid _parties_, but he's been wanting to try this _way_ too long to be delayed by some retarded gathering where Deidara doesn't even fit in and just stands around hating everybody and everything there) and walking away. He smirks ever so slightly as he hears the front door shut.

He picks up the spider, flips open his lighter that he's never used before (he got his dislike of cigarettes and cigars from his mother's constant smoking) and lets the flame catch one of the legs.

He throws it up into the air, high enough so that it won't touch anything when it finally goes and…

Bang.

There's no other word to describe it.

Deidara's eyes light up with an absolute _joy _that he's never, ever felt before. And then it's over.

He reaches to find another one, eyes still set on the spot. This one goes off. And then it hits him. It's _gorgeous_. Suddenly he starts moving lightning fast, pulling out bomb after bomb. (He knows what his mother would think, and at this point he doesn't care. She'd say it was violence, pure destruction, and that in no way should her _son_ be practicing it. Well, it is destruction. Deidara's never had so much fun in his life. But it's more than that. Because this is much too poetic to be just that. It must be, he thinks, art) Bomb after bomb, their color lighting up his room.

The thirteenth bomb is in the air before Deidara realizes that it's too big. He's thrust against the wall, and suddenly there's this sharp, excruciating pain shooting up the entire left side of his face.

He reaches up with his hand, not noticing that the left side of his body is badly burned, because it will heal and his face was closest to the bomb, searching for an eye, and while there's plenty of blood he finds none. He notices that the carpet is stained red, and it's probably never going to come out.

He suddenly puts out his bloody hands, and pulls (_drags_) himself back into the center of the room, and slowly, Deidara thrusts his hand into the bag and pulls out his art, and one by one Deidara sets them off, marveling with his one remaining eye.

He sits in his room and sets off bomb after bomb (because it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen), even though there's blood dripping steadily onto the once white carpet.


	2. Roommates from Hell

**Broken Color**

**Chapter 1**

**Roommates from Hell**

The campus is _small_._Really_ small, yeah. I'd figured it would be small, being a private art school and all, but not _this_ small. I wondered why it only offered courses in art, theater and music. 'Course, I wouldn't be here if I couldn't sculpt, mm-mn. No way. I'm taking a class that lets you do whatever kind of art you want, long as it isn't offered as an individual class. It's called "Akatsuki". Daybreak. 'Suppose it fits, like I really care though.

I probably could have found a school with a class specific to sculpting, but they all had too many rules, yeah. Besides, half the schools these days don't allow kids with implants.

Not that I'm a kid anymore, mm-mn.

So, you know, it only takes me 30 seconds to survey the campus, and then I go find my dorm.

'Course, I have to get the key first. There's a real bitch giving them out--she's all smiles and flirts to anyone who looks down her bra, and 's really nasty if you're not a pretty guy who doesn't comment on her hair. Of course, as I get up, she gets this smile on her face, yeah. She asks what my name is, and I only answer Iwanaga. Like hell she's gonna get the satisfaction of knowing my first name, yeah. As she holds up the key it sounds like she's about to say something, but I snatch the key up before words can come out. Heh, she's got this look on her face that's just _priceless_, yeah, like she can't believe that anyone would leave _her_.

As I figured, the dorm is just the typical tiny square box with two beds, two desks, and two closets. The walls are completely gray, devoid of color. Uh. Nothing's good without any color. Not gonna spend much time in here, mm-mn. And when I do it'll be with my eyes closed, visiting some far off explosion.

But of course, they had to make it _tiny_. It doesn't matter that most the students get a dorm to themselves, because that's just how damn _small_ this place is, yeah. Each room is squeezed together as though the entire population was gonna live here. (Hell, that would make an_awesome_ display of my art…) But of course I'm one of the four percent that gets a roommate.

It's too small, I think, yeah.

Too small for two people.

_Way_ to small for my art.

No way nothing would catch on fire from one of the sparks, and though I really couldn't care less if the building burned to ground 'cause of my art, (hell, that would be freakin' _awesome_) but I'd probably be kicked out, hmm. And I _really_ don't want to go to any other schools around here.

I deposit my stuff on the bed I want, pull out my black cloak, (It's my favorite, long and pitch black that covers up my mouth when it's buttoned. Thank god it's actually cold enough up here to wear) and leave the dorm.

Think I'm gonna go outside, look around, find someplace I can actually _use_ my art. (Like hell I'm just gonna let it sit around.)

It's a nice campus, lots of trees, big open spaces for art, pretty buildings. Nice, yeah.

Probably won't last too long.

(Nothing does, though.)

It's fall. My favorite time of year, all the trees are lit up and just _begging_ to light up the skies. Nice way to start out the year, yeah.

It's about time for classes to start, so I head off toward my room. The guy teaching is pretty weird--pricings everywhere and dyed orange hair. But, crap, looks like everyone in the room, except this one guy who has natural black hair, has unnatural dyed hair. So I tell him my name, and he tells me to go sit in the back, next to the guy with bottle red hair named Akasuna Sasori.

As I walk toward him, I notice the other kids. One has blue hair and _really_ pale skin that almost has a bluish tinge, yeah. 'S working with _swords_, (the fuck?) if you can believe it.

The guy sitting next to him, the only one with natural hair, gave me this _look_ as I passed him by. Really creeps me out, yeah. Made me feel all…I dunno, kinda like I just falling, and crap the _pain_…shit. And suddenly I realize I was just standing there, 'cause the blue haired guy's looking at him, and saying something under his breath like "Can you _please_ try to restrain yourself Itachi…" I don't manage to see what he's working with, and although I could pull back my hair and use my scope, I don't want to stick around that long.

His eyes were _creepy_, yeah! Never been creeped out by _anything_ before! They were pitch black, and god, they _had_ to be implants. Real expensive, and new. They didn't make 'em that convincing back when I got mine. Never could've told if he hadn't done that _thing_, yeah. But no real human eyes could do that, mm-mn.

The last guy, on the other side of the room, had green hair, and was working with plants. Strange group of kids, yeah? All them with weird art (heh, I should be one to talk) most with dyed hair, and all looked like they preferred being alone.

I finally reach my table, and the Sasori kid speaks up. "Heh, so Itachi got you too." Is that a smirk I detect? "Freshman." He added. (Yep, defiantly a smirk.) I bristled. Fuck, this may be my first year, but I'm not gonna take being called a _freshman_ from some snotty, stuck-up, idiot who probably is only a sophomore himself--"So are you going to stand there looking angry, or sit? Brat." Dammit!! What was this guy's problem, yeah?!! Asshole. I can tell, we're not gonna get along.

So the class starts. I can churn out art if I have to--make bomb after bomb if the need arises. But that's not _art_. You can't just _make_ art; it has to precise, elegant. You have to carve each leg individually, with care. You have to smell the wet clay and feel it on your hands, and you have to know: that this _will_ be art. You have to throw your entire being into it. You have to put the small explosive device in at just the right time, when the body's halfway finished so that you can sculpt the rest around that, around it's core, it's being. And then you have to light in a certain way and then…finally…it's art.

The small spider I was working on went off in a glorious blaze of explosion.

I can see that Sasori's looking at me skeptically out of the corner of his eye, yeah. He decides to then roll them in my direction and continue working on his puppets. Uh. Real bastard, mm-mn.

He gets irritated as I'm almost done with my third one.

"Is that _really_ what you think art is?" He asks, exasperated. I smirk. Chance to talk about my art, yeah? This is gonna be fun.

"Course it's art. Art is life--colors and sounds and explosions. Art is fleeting. Art is--" I say, as I throw up the finished turtle, with a smirk, "A bang. Yeah."

Sasori scoffs. "That is not _art_. Art is forever, eternal. To be able to make something and then have people marvel at it's beauty years later, that is true art. Art is…"

"It's not beautiful if it lasts!"

"It's beautiful_because_ it lasts."

I prickled. This guy was stupid, yeah! He didn't get art at all! How am I supposed to be partnered with someone like _this_???

"Art is in the moment. You have to make it and in that one second--it's the most beautiful thing in the world, yeah! In that one moment; and then it's gone! That's what makes it art, mm-mn!"

"Of course brat."

Nnnn!! This guy is so frustrating!!

"You really don't get art, do you Sasori? You're all saying how it's 'everlasting' and then--"

"Don't address me as you equal. I am your senior in more ways than one." He said, not looking at me.

Asshole!!

"All right, Sasori-_danna_. That better, yeah?!" I said, anger arising.

"Perfect." He said with a smirk, still not looking at me.

This is gotta be the worst the worse day ever, yeah. Finally the bell rings, and I'm up and outta there before Sasori-_danna_ can even blink an eye.

I go off into one of the places I found earlier to use some of my art to calm down, mm-mn. That's always what I do to calm down. So it's getting dark by the time I finally am

okay, yeah? So I head back to my dorm.

'Suppose I'll have to meet my roommate now, hmm. Hope he can appreciate real art, not like that bastard--

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. _Shit_. I opened the door and that freakin' _bastard_ is lying on the other bed!!

"What the fuck are you doing in my room, yeah??!!" I yell.

He looked up from the book he was reading, which appeared to poetry. "Language, Deidara. I had no idea that we were going to be roommates either. I am no more happy to be sharing a room with an artistically challenged brat than you are. Yet somehow I manage to maintain composure." And he picked up his book and began reading again.

I stiffen. "You are so…Nnnn!" I said finally, stomping over to my bed and throwing myself down. That kid had a way of…You know, like he could really get under my skin, yeah? Get me really irritated and frustrated. Only one other person could do that, mm-mn. My mother. Bitch. Won't even talk about her.

Naturally though, Sasori-danna (why the fuck am I even calling him that, yeah? I refuse to call him that unless it's to his face or he actually manages to earn my respect, by some miracle of nature) happened to be looking over when I flung myself down, and noticed something I'd rather not talk about.

"What's wrong with your eye?"

Aw, crap. He asked.

I get up, turn to face him, and see if playing stupid will work. I point to my right eye and say in an affronted tone; "It's an eye, yeah! There's nothing_wrong_ with it!"

He shakes his head and points to my scope. "The other one, brat. Playing stupid won't do you any good."

"It's an implant." I finally say. Shit, he was gonna pry.

Sasori rolled his eyes. "I _know_ that. What type is it? And how did a probably-broke artist like you manage to get it, let alone afford it? You don't seem particularly fond of it."

I sigh. Crap, why am I even bothering to tell him this, yeah? "It's a _scope_. I blew my eye out when I was sixteen."

Sasori was beginning to smirk again. "Heh, that should have showed you that art isn't--"

"It was _great_, yeah. All the colors, sounds…My first time using explosives, mm-mn. I loved it… And then _Mother_ insisted upon having the hole covered up with an implant, and the burned skin with the extra metal." I said, sounding dreamy and excited at first, and then angry and resilient afterwards.

Sasori kind of looked at me in a, well, I'm not really sure, hmm. Kinda in a curios way, like I had said something strange. Weird, yeah…Then he shook it off and smirked.

"Ah. Mother problems, then. So maybe the brat actually has a past that's not completely boring, expected and predictable."

Ugh!!! Nnn…that guy, even when he complements you it's an insult! "Why are you even bothering to take time out of your_ oh so busy schedule_ to question me stuff I'd rather not talk about, yeah?" I snark, and storm out of the room, slamming the door behind me.

Nnn…so, yeah, I'm lying on the grass looking at the sky. It's getting dark and I should probably get back to my dorm, but, you know, oh well. I'm not gonna sleep until around twelve anyway. _Sasori_ doesn't seem like the type to stay up late, so if I wait till then I shouldn't have to deal with him. Hmm, I like staying outside better anyway. The cold wind is freezing and it feels _good_. I could use some fresh air, mm-mn.

So, yeah, as first days go that was pretty nasty. A bastard for a roommate, and idiot _and_ a bastard for a partner (hell, it may be that same person but the partner thinks art is _everlasting_ so I get to include idiot in there too) and a tiny living space. Shit. This isn't gonna be fun, mm-mn. Oh well. Maybe I'll set off a few small bombs, yeah. Calm down.

Perfect way to end a retarded day. Maybe tomorrow will get better. Yeah, and maybe art is_everlasting_. Oh well.


End file.
